


Purpose and Pain

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Dom/sub, Drama, Dubious Consent, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-War, Rimming, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room, The Quidditch Pitch: The Dungeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-17
Updated: 2009-08-17
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Percy is living half of a life, stuck inside of his own mind and trapped by his own failings and pain. Draco is desperately trying to find a reason to even get up in the morning. Lyrics provided by Damien Rice.





	Purpose and Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for Percy_Ficathon on livejournal as a gift for Loony4Lupin

  
Author's notes: Thanks to Betas Ed and Amber  


* * *

Percy Weasley sighed as he packed up his desk for the weekend. Being the deputy Minister under Kingsley Shackelbolt was the most rewarding career anyone could ask for, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to the weekend. However…he didn’t really look forward to any days any more. During his work week, Percy would wake up, put his perfectly starched and ironed clothes on, go to work, and do his job to textbook perfection. Whenever he went home to his cold and modest flat, Percy would make himself a simple and quite tasteless dinner, flick on the WWN, and drink until he fell asleep.

Having mastered a hangover potion, the mornings were never an issue, and he could continue doing his job with the pomp and circumstance he always did. The weekends were a different story, and this particular Friday evening was no exception. Percy would put on his best pair of jeans, a simple brown belt, a white collared shirt, and tasteful shoes to go out for the evening. His goal wasn’t to have a good time; he didn’t deserve a good time. Percy’s goal was to find men, any men, willing to do anything.

Percy had known he was gay for some time. After abandoning his family for values he thought tantamount to success, he was alone for a few years and had found ample time to reflect. He learned his vision often turned to men, the way their bodies moved, their shoulders commanded them, and even the sinews of their muscles would get Percy more aroused than he ever had before. He concluded that he suppressed these feelings while still in school.

He was by no means looking for anyone special, he couldn’t even fathom that someone would want to love him or that he should be allowed to feel that. But tonight, as it was every weekend night, Percy headed to the nearest wizarding gay bar in London to bring someone home with him. He took a few sips of firewhiskey and quickly apparated to an alley behind the club.

In no time at all, a man taller and broader than Minister Shackelbolt had caught up with Percy, his brown curly hair and dark eyes doing nothing to hide the sinister sneer. “You’re the one who likes it rough, aren’t you?” He asked, running a hand down Percy’s back to grab his arse.

“My reputation precedes me tonight,” Percy murmured. Everything about this man belied a cry of warning, from his choice of dark studded clothing to the ominous tattoos covering his rippling arms. But Percy knew that he couldn’t ask for a more fitting punishment and let the man guide him to the dance floor.

Percy fumbled to unlock his door, anticipating with resignation that would come next. He craved the intimacy of a human touch, but Percy knew he deserved nothing better than this miniscule pleasure mixed with pain.

_Come all ye reborn_

_Blow out my horn_

_I’m driving it hard_

_This is love_

_This is porn_

_God will forgive me, but I_

_I whip myself scorn scorn!_

His latest choice, Brian, shoved him through the door as soon as it was opened. Percy turned a defiant chin at the man, but acquiesced when he saw the lust burning in Brian’s eyes. He immediately kissed Percy hard, his teeth slamming against the delicate skin of Percy’s lips. Already that night, blood was drawn. He ripped away Percy’s clothes and at once Percy was standing there weak and naked, Brian removed his shirt to reveal the stories and pictures cut across his skin. He leered at Percy as he lit a cigarette, blowing smoke rings into Percy’s eyes.

Brian grabbed Percy’s curly hair, pulling his head roughly to one side and causing Percy’s bones to crack loudly. Percy cried out in pain when Brian dug his teeth into the soft flesh of Percy’s neck. Suddenly, he felt a terrible weight on his shoulders and he was forced to the floor. He now directly faced the pierced, pulsating and frighteningly large member of his choice for the night.

“Eat it, you little whore. You know you love to,” Brian growled, gripping Percy’s hair tightly even as he took another drag from his cigarette. Percy wrapped his lips around the throbbing brown cock in front of him, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a gag when Brian thrust hard against the back of Percy’s throat.

Suddenly, a sharp slap hit the side of Percy’s face before his head was yanked back, Brian’s dick still in his mouth. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle it? Well you better handle it or you’ll be punished!” He shouted, pushing himself against at the back of Percy’s throat, the metal piercing clanging against his teeth. This time, he attempted to suppress his gag, his body engulfed in fear though he had done this many times before.

When Brian had his fill, he pulled Percy up and dragged him to the sofa. Once there, Brian cupped Percy’s dick in his hand, the look of lust in his eyes waning.

“Oh you’re not hard? You don’t like it bitch? How about now?” He whispered fiercely, putting his lit cigarette out in the soft crevice of Percy’s elbow.

Percy cried out, tears leaking from his eyes. He had been pinched, slapped, bitten and whipped, but never burned. The pain seared his skin and Percy felt a momentary absolution for all his failing, all of the shit that was his life. At least he did until Brian yelled, “Fuck you!” and bent him hard over the back of the sofa.

Percy felt the globes of his arse spread open wide and his body clenched knowing there would be no preparation today. His temporary lover thought this was a game, a way to get Percy off. Percy knew it was the only self-flagellation he could handle, too cowardly to harm himself and too worried about appearances to ask to be hurt. He resorted to sex as his only outlet.

Brian’s large member assaulted Percy immediately, ripping at his insides and creating a burn he was sure would bleed. Percy could feel tears in his own eyes and falling down his face. Maybe this time the pain would finally kill him. Maybe this time his lover would grab his throat and end his life. Maybe Percy could be free of this guilt once and for all.

As Brian’s hands dug into Percy’s hips, he finally felt his orgasm building. Percy never came in the ecstasy he once felt during his youthful discoveries, but in this soul-sucking all-consuming end that left him more injured and empty than before. When Brian pulled out and came all over Percy’s back, Percy finally let go of the grip he had on the couch. Brian picked up his wand and cast a cleansing charm. Percy rose to go gather his clothes, but Brian’s hand stopped him.

“At least let me heal you,” He said, his hard, foreboding form had softened into something Percy didn’t feel like he could look at.

“I’ll be fine, I can heal myself,” Percy said, pulling away and redressing silently as Brian did the same. Percy opened the door and ushered the man out, ignoring the silent questions and pleas in his eyes.

Percy sat carefully on his sofa, his entire body screaming at the pain of his evening. He immediately grabbed his gin from the drawer of the end table and drank himself to sleep.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Draco sighed at the stack of papers on his desk, and even managed an exhausted sneer at his employer as more papers were delivered to him. He hated working for that crotchety old wizard, Borgin, but he needed the job. Sure, he was just a clerk, but at least he was supporting himself and not forced to suck away what was left of his family’s fortune. So Draco continued to trudge away for ten hours a day, keeping the books and finances organized for this dingy little store.

After his father had run off to hide from his misdeeds like the coward he was, Draco and his mother were left to clean up the mess. This meant liquidating the whole estate to pay for court fees, moving his mother into a smaller home, and setting up a trust so that she may at least live in comfort for the rest of her years. Draco too had a small trust, but it had to take him far, so he hoped to support himself without tapping into his now meager wealth. Draco wrapped up the last ledger of the evening and sealed it to owl to Borgin. He sighed heavily again, already late for tea with his mother…a Friday evening tradition.

Draco slung his robes over his arm, the late March air feeling brisk against his skin. He looked forward to warmer weather soon, even if he did feel more at home in the dismal grays of winter. He made his way along the dry streets into Muggle London, only a few blocks from the Leaky Cauldron. He came upon a nice quaint neighborhood of town homes facing a park. He gripped a silver snake doorknocker and knocked on the only sharp green door on the street.

“I wish you could just apparate. Damned anti magic in muggle area law!,” Narcissa said as she opened the door. Her expression was cold and stoic save for the delicate arch of one eyebrow. “Bloody nosy muggles.”

“I know, mother, but our old neighborhood was too expensive,” Draco said calmly, hanging up his robes on a crystal hook near the door.

“Must you always be so glib about our dire finances?” She said, still no inflection in her voice.

”Must you always be so melodramatic?” Draco responded. He smirked slightly and his mother’s mouth twitched at the corners.

Draco took a seat in a high backed leather chair, one of the possessions they kept, and called for their elf, Bina. “Earl Grey, milk, no sugar,” he commanded, picking up a finger sandwich and popping it into his mouth.

“So how is work?” she asked, though she sounded uninterested.

“Dismal.” He drawled.

“How’s your dinky little flat?” She said, turning up her nose as she asked.

“Same size as ever…and no, I will not move in with you. I’m a grown man,” he said a bit sharply.

“Speaking of which, how’s the homosexual lifestyle? Finding it the rebellion you hoped it would be?” Narcissa said coolly.

“Get off it, mother, it’s not a rebellion and you know it,” Draco said with boredom as he began to mix his tea and milk.

Draco had known he was gay since puberty. He tried hiding it with Parkinson, but had trouble lying to himself. Then, he hid it from the world, but secretly began to take partners. Blaise had been more than eager to get into bed with him, and their affair went on until the end of Sixth Year. After the war, there were a few strings of one-night stands, but nothing memorable. Now, Draco had nothing else to lose, and decided that anyone who wanted to know he was gay could just know.

Nothing to lose felt like an understatement even as it drifted through Draco’s mind in his mother’s drafty living room. Draco didn’t have his good name, good family standing, wealth, or even any friends. The ones that weren’t dead were in hiding abroad. Draco had no drive, as he couldn’t find any respectable work anywhere carrying his name and past. He had no purpose, and the only reason he sometimes even kept going was his mother. If it weren’t for his self-respect and perceived good looks, Draco would feel like a non-entity in the world.

As they sat in stone silence, Narcissa’s owl Helena was suddenly tapped on the drawing room window. His mother took the proffered letter addressed to her and read it silently. Her face broke out into what Draco could only assume was a genuine smile, though he had never seen one on her face.

“Why mother! I do believe your makeup has cracked,” Draco smirked, goading her smile even wider.

“And you’d know all about makeup,” she replied, folding her letter and placing it in her pocket.

“Touche. So what post could make you that…for lack of a better word…happy?” Draco said, trading his sarcastic look for a sincere one.

Narcissa looked reluctant to speak, so Draco sat down and gazed intently at her.

“Well, I’ve just had a reply from Andromeda,” she said her wide, ice eyes gauging him for a response.

“Your muggle loving sister?” Draco said. He hadn’t meant to be uncouth; he was just shocked. “I mean, what did she have to say?”

“She’s agreed to meet me for lunch after she finds a babysitter for Teddy on Sunday,” Narcissa said, a flicker of excitement on her face.

“That could be nice,” Draco answered, trying to sound supportive though he was confused by his mother’s actions.

“Oh put your nose down! She lost her husband, however muggle he may have been, then she lost her daughter and new son in law,” she said, stiffening her posture in defense.

“Sounds admirable, mother. I don’t blame you for wanting to be there for her,” Draco resigned. He made an excuse for needing to leave, and gave his mother a genuine hug which left her looking surprised as he exited the town home.

Draco was not angry with his mother for reconnecting with her only other living family member. Draco couldn’t care less about muggles, mudbloods, or blood traitors. In the stark absence of his father, none of that seemed to matter. Sure, breeding was tantamount: the best of the best uniting in power, wealth and beauty. However, the blood purity, when stacked against the sharp light of reality was ridiculous to say the least.

No, anger was hard to come by when facing bitterness and jealousy. His mother had found something meaningful, and Draco was slowly becoming alone in his insignificance.

The rest of Draco’s evening was spent trying to avoid self-pity and maintain a semblance of respect. He got a curry, opened up a bottle of Merlot from the estate and listened to the Wasps game. On his way to bed, he passed the full-length mirror in his small hallway. He took in his tall form; quite proud of the muscle he’d developed from his simple exercise regimen. He ran his hand though his soft platinum hair, turning up his aristocratic nose and admiring his clear and pale complexion. _“There’s still something to be said for good breeding,”_ Draco thought to himself. He resolved to go out and show off a little the next day.

Saturday night came quickly and after a half a day’s work catching a few of Borgin’s mistakes, Draco dashed to his tiny flat for an evening out. He was happy that he still had a good stock of the finest designer clothing, even if it was trending toward muggles these days. He selected a pair of sleek gray trousers that tailored to his backside flatteringly. A simple white collared shirt and a pinstriped vest topped off his look. He was satisfied that the outfit seemed to hug his muscular torso and rear while still making him look like he at least had a little class. He put on a ring with his family crest, despite its diminished standing, and made his way to the club.

The dark, hazy atmosphere was inviting. The pulsating loud music and the sweet sent of smoke made it easy for Draco to decide when he wanted to see and be seen. He leaned casually against the bar and ordered a scotch on the rocks, sipping his drink as he surveyed the crowd on the dance floor. Nearly every man who walked by sized him up appreciatively, and Draco loved the temporary thrill it brought. But he was looking for a little more tonight. He wanted something to linger.

Across the room, he spotted a very tall, thin man who seemed to be staring in his direction. He was swaying lightly to the music, and his body flowed like ribbons the way his long arms moved and his legs shifted. He was nearly androgynous, but his shoulders were broad and his torso sloping. He turned around, his body moving hypnotically as though it were a direct invitation to Draco. He was clad in all black, and a glint of silver indicated he was wearing a set of black suspenders as well. As Draco’s eyes swept over him he noticed the familiar red hair.

“He’s fun for a night or a one off, but don’t waste your time if you’re not ready for what he wants,” Said a large, brown haired man who had sidled up next to Draco.

“Oh, I think I can handle him,” Draco laughed, thinking back to the ridiculous head boy in school who used to glide through the halls with so much arrogance, he made the Slytherins look bad!

“Usually I love dominating. I love to give it to the little cock sluts around here real hard…but that empty look in his eyes. He just…it almost seems like he’d rather be dead than fucking!” The man said. “I’m Brian by the way; can I buy you a drink?”

Draco barely registered the question as his whole consciousness was piqued in curiosity. What sort of game was Percy Weasley playing? Draco knew the sort of men that could frequent these clubs, and while the acts didn’t really appeal to him, he never judged. However, he also knew that you had to really want it to put yourself in the situation that this large bear of a man was so obviously insinuating he was in. Percy obviously didn’t want that, and now Draco needed to know why.

He walked along the shadows on the edge of the dance floor until Percy came into full view. He was momentarily distracted by Percy’s elegantly thin form dancing with a blonde man and stood still to watch the ginger’s hips swing erotically against the stranger. As Percy turned, Draco could see that empty, hollow look on his face. As the blonde main grabbed his chin and pulled him in for what looked like a painfully hard kiss, Percy’s body just sagged, his eyes deadening at the touch. Draco couldn’t understand it at all, but he wanted to touch Percy, and some random blonde bloke wasn’t going to stand in the way.

“Excuse me,” Draco said, sidling up to the pair and pulling Percy away. Percy lurched forward and they quickly moved away from the man’s protests. Draco’s firm grip on Percy’s wrist led him to the opposite side of the dance floor. Immediately, Percy ground against Draco, and Draco grabbed his hips in response. He felt Percy’s long arms wrap around his shoulders, his neck tilting to one side to fit his head neatly against his partner’s. Draco lost himself in the feeling of Percy pressed against him, not even caring that this was a Weasley at all, but wanting to feel so much more. As he pulled back, he looked Percy up and down, and noticed cuts, bruises, and a nasty burn dotting his arms up into his rolled up sleeves.

Draco pulled Percy back against his body, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Did Percy like keeping scars from his conquests? Would Percy expect Draco to do the same thing? The need to know offset any of his apprehensions, and soon Draco was taking Percy back to his flat. In the light of his apartment complex, he could see the dead look on Percy’s face. Draco didn’t understand it at all. Didn’t he want this? Or did he really want someone to kill him?

The thought of a Weasley having a death wish set Draco into an irrational rage that he hadn’t felt in ages. The moment they were inside of his flat, Draco grabbed Percy’s shirt and ripped it off of him. He wanted to see how many more scars were marring his magnificent body. He didn’t bother to kiss him or speak to him as he quickly and roughly removed the rest of Percy’s clothes. He snapped the suspenders back against Percy’s bare skin before unclipping those and letting Percy’s trousers fall to the floor.

“Hold still,” Draco whispered, circling Percy’s body to examine every inch of him. Percy hung his head, folded his hands, and stood there. Draco longed to run his hands over the lean muscle of Percy’s torso, and across the ripples of his abdomen. He wanted to kiss up the elegant neck and down his artful jaw. But instead, he just surveyed in shock at the scars and bruises dotting the pale freckled body standing prone in front of him.

“What the fuck, Weasley?” Draco finally shouted, making Percy jump and run for his trousers.

“How the hell do you know my last name?” Percy said in a panic as he dug out his glasses. He froze in recognition.

“Malfoy…what’re you…why are you…” Percy stuttered as he began to hastily pull on his pants.

Draco had no intention of letting Percy leave until he got some answers. He grabbed Percy roughly by the arms, dragging him into the kitchen and causing him to trip over his pants in the process, his naked body falling to the floor. He slammed Percy up against his cupboards, and before Percy could get up, Draco cast ‘incarcerous’ and Percy was tied to the steel handles of the cupboard doors. He frantically searched through his potions store until he found a small vile of clear liquid.

“Drink this!” Draco yelled, putting the vile to Percy’s mouth. To Draco’s shock and continued anger, Percy willingly drank what he was given.

“You have scars and bruises all over your body, a reputation for liking pain that I hear about before I even start drinking at the club, and now you’re willingly taking a potion from someone who you’ve known to be a Death Eater! I don’t fucking understand how a Weasley would want so desperately to die! You work at the Ministry, your family is heralded as heroes throughout the Wizarding World, and you’ve got a damn family for that matter! How stupid can one person be?” Draco said, pacing the kitchen so that he wouldn’t hit the bound man in front of him and give him what he wanted.

Percy raised his chin defiantly, his sharp brown eyes glinting a challenge behind his horn rimmed glasses. He said nothing, however, but just sat there breathing heavily and glaring at Draco.

“Stay silent all you want, Weasley, you just drank veritaserum. You’ll be answering me soon,” Draco sneered. He couldn’t wait to hear what this pathetic blood traitor had to say. If Draco had his life, he wouldn’t be attempting to end it in every depraved way he could think of. At the mention of the potion, Percy’s face paled and his eyes widened in panic. He began to struggle with his bonding.

“I thought you liked it this way,” Draco said, still feeling the blood course through him angrily. “Doesn’t this sort of thing get you off?”

“No,” Percy said, his voice catching in his throat and a horrified look on his face. Draco smirked, knowing the potion was now working.

“So you’re just doing this as what?” Draco said, the anticipation of getting his answers eating at him.

“To punish myself,” Percy said, crying out in pain as he fought the potion. He turned his head away from Draco, obviously trying to hide from his own answers.

“What…” Draco started. This wasn’t the direction he though the conversation would take. He thought that Percy was suicidal and just too cowardly to do it. But his answer showed him that Draco didn’t know anything about the bespectacled man tied to his kitchen floor.

“Why, what could you possibly need to make up for? You fought on the good side, you are rising in your career, and you have your family. What do you need absolution for?” Draco said, his pace slowing and his temperature dropping.

“I’m the reason he’s dead, I should be dead,” Percy whispered, tears falling down his face. He turned his head again, his body shaking in sobs.

“What are you on about?” Draco said, sitting down, overwhelmed by his reactions.

“Fred! Fucking Fred! I show up at the last fucking minute after abandoning my family for years, Fred laughs at my joke, and suddenly he’s buried under a pile of rocks. It should have been me!” Percy yelled, his entire face turning red.

_Come all ye lost_

_Dive into moss_

_And hope that my sanity covers the cost_

_To remove the stain of my love_

_Paper mache’_

Draco needed a moment to breathe, to think over what he was doing. Instead of confronting someone whose family he loathed, he was pulling out painful secrets from a man now sobbing on his floor. Furthermore, all Draco could feel deep within him was a desperate need to end Percy’s pain, to comfort him. He’d never felt this way before, never felt compelled to soothe someone else.

“Don’t you ever want to let it just feel good?” Draco whispered, the true weight of Percy’s burdens beginning to crush him.

“No. I shouldn’t’ be allowed to feel good, to enjoy this pathetic life. I can’t even bring myself to look my mother in those forgiving brown eyes,” Percy whispered, his voice rasping weakly with strain from struggling against the potion. “It’s my fault he’s dead, it should have been me.”

“And I certainly wouldn’t know anything about being the cause of someone’s demise,” Draco said, more with disappointment than sarcasm.

Percy’s bloodshot eyes met Draco’s, wide, like he was shocked at the admission. “Draco…I…” he started to say something in an almost sympathetic tone, but Draco interrupted.

“You need to be healed, and if you won’t do it, I will,” Draco said, searching for the murtlap in his pantry.

“That burn looks infected. I can heal it, but I think murtlap might be better,” Draco whispered, kneeling next to Percy’s bound form. Draco loathed himself for being so irrational. He let his bitterness get in the way of even-headed logic, and now he pitied the man on his floor. He could have just had a leisurely evening of random memorable fucking, but his pride got in the way, taking Percy Weasley down in the process.

Draco carefully spread the salve onto the burn hole in Percy’s flesh, lightly running two fingers over the wound to let the sap sink in. Percy hissed, biting his lip in pain. Draco found his other hand running soothing circles over Percy’s shoulder as he blew the treated wound dry. He looked over to find Percy’s eyes closed, leaning into Draco’s touch.

He leaned against Percy’s body, pointing his wand to the various cuts and bruises he found. He tried to ignore the heat coming from the hard planes of Percy’s chest, feeling the pounding of his own heart in contrast to Percy’s.

“I’m going to unbind you now. I’m…I’m sorry,” Draco found himself stumbling over words. He cast a spell immediately releasing Percy.

Percy flexed his arms, his face contorting in pain as his stiff muscles stretched. Draco stayed kneeling next to him, his wand ready in case Percy sought completely justifiable retaliation. His deep brown eyes met Draco’s, still empty save for a small spark Draco thought he saw momentarily. He reached out and ran a hand along Percy’s pale, freckled flesh. Percy turned his face toward Draco’s hand and breathed deeply. His long neck was displayed there for Draco to taste, and he couldn’t hold back.

Draco shifted and placed his knees on either side of Percy’s hips. He pressed a cautious kiss right against a tendon of Percy’s thin neck. Percy moaned like he was fighting against some sort of internal pressure. When Draco drove his hips into Percy’s and began to run his tongue down his jaw line, Percy whimpered, his fists clenching at his sides.

“I want you, Wesley. I’ve wanted you since I saw you in the club. But I only want you if I can have you for real…if I can make you feel good,” Draco whispered, his voice stern and certain. He could feel Percy’s erection through their clothing; he knew Percy wanted him too. Draco hid his triumphant (arrogant if he was being honest) smirk as he continued to kiss Percy’s neck and thrust his hips.

A shaking, tentative hand ran down Draco’s back, soon joined by the other, drawing light circles against his hard body. Draco put a hand on Percy’s face and guided him to a kiss. He ran his lips over Percy’s carefully before his tongue glided into Percy’s smooth, sweet mouth. Percy moaned fully this time, his hips rising to meet Draco’s.

Draco stood, holding out his hands to pull Percy to his feet. He reveled in Percy’s heavy breaths as he buried his face in Draco’s neck. Percy snaked his arms around Draco, kissing him eagerly and clinging to his body as though he needed to for survival. Draco had never felt so complete, being held like that…being wanted so fiercely. He pulled away, running his hands through Percy’s curled locks before leading him toward the bedroom.

))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((()))

))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))   
  
Percy’s mind was fighting a battle with his heart and his soul as he followed Draco to the bedroom, watching him undress as he let the way. Draco’s body was muscular, tall and lean, though not tall or thin to the exaggerations that Percy was. He wanted to lose himself, his lips dancing across Draco’s pale skin. However, Percy couldn’t fathom he could ever feel good. He couldn’t imagine any of the weight and pain leaving him and he certainly couldn’t believe he was about to open himself up to Draco Malfoy of all people.   
  
His inner monologue seemed to fade away as he entered the bedroom and Draco’s shorts fell to the floor, revealing the exquisite color and shape of his arse to Percy. He walked quickly forward, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist and pressing his burgeoning erection against Draco’s warm body. He kissed along Draco’s neck and shoulders, delighting in the soft moans and heavy breaths coming from his shapely mouth. There was no force, no rage, no pain…just this light and potential that Percy had never felt before.   
  
He moved in front of Draco, gripping his thick cock, studying Draco’s white lashes, parted lips, and uneven breaths as he did so. Needing to taste every inch, Percy began to kiss down Draco’s chest, falling to his knees. When Percy took Draco’s pink member into his mouth, Draco cried out, grabbing Percy’s shoulders to stop himself from thrusting too hard.   
  
For the first time, Percy really focused on his lover. The salty taste weeping from Draco’s cock swirled smoothly on Percy’s tongue. He could hear Draco’s gentle moans; feel his hands softly dragging through his hair. Percy took both his hands and ran them up Draco’s smooth arse, around his waist, and up his muscular torso, lingering to commit the new sensations to memory. When Draco’s moaned Percy’s name, his real name, not some derogatory term, his body felt weak.   
  
Draco pulled Percy up and kissed him hard, but not in a painful way…more hungry and needy.   
  
“I don’t want to come yet,” He whispered, explaining why he had stopped Percy’s discoveries. He began to circle Percy, kissing bit of bare flesh whenever his lips could reach. Percy moaned, trying to pull Draco back against him and create that delicious friction.   
  
“I want to watch you come…to make you feel good,” Draco whispered, reaching his hand down into Percy’s shorts to wrap around his erection. Percy cried out, bucking his hips forward. Draco’s hands felt amazing on him. “Tell me what feels good.”   
  
“I just want it to stop hurting,” Percy whimpered, not even knowing if the potion had let that truth slip, or if he had already let Draco in that far.   
  
Percy was shocked when he felt Draco kneel behind him, pull down his shorts, and begin to kiss the flesh of his arse.   
  
“Percy…oh Merlin,” Draco groaned, reaching for his wand. He heard the healing spells being cast, and he knew the punishment his body received extended to every part of him. Before he had a chance to think on his injuries further, Draco was spreading him open and breathing against his entrance. When he felt Draco’s tongue slide over his opening, Percy groaned, gripping the nearby bedpost to hold himself up. He could feel Draco’s tongue enter him and his hands moved to the front to stroke him quickly.   
  
“Draco…” Percy whimpered, digging his nails into the wooden pest and Draco continued to probe him mercilessly.   
  
“Tell me you like it,” Draco whispered against him.   
  
“So good,” Percy moaned, grasping Draco’s hand wrapped around his cock.   
  
“Want to fuck you,” Draco said, rising up and moving over to his nightstand and Percy whimpered from the loss of contact. Percy heard a creak and saw Draco spread out on the bed, his magnificent body laid out for him like a feast. As Draco slathered lubricant on his long, thick cock, Percy couldn’t help but reach down and mirror his actions.   
  
Draco’s icy eyes were a dark and stormy gray as he beckoned Percy to him. He pulled Percy on top of him, cradling Percy’s arse against his thighs. He ran his hands up and down Percy’s chest before pulling him forward in a kiss.   
  
Percy froze momentarily when he felt a cold sensation against his entrance and Draco’s fingers sliding over him. Draco’s lips continued to move against Percy’s, his hand now running circles on his back to relax him. When he felt Draco’s hands fall to his hips and his cock run along his entrance, Percy reached behind and guided Draco’s head in slowly, his moans coming immediately. Draco thrust up slowly, sheathing himself inside of Percy as Percy lowered. Soon, he was gloriously filled, his flesh meeting Draco’s and his hips shifting at the sensations.   
  
Percy leaned forward, gripping Draco’s shoulders as he thrust forcefully into him. Draco’s hands dug into his hips, his moans getting louder, his breathing more intense. When Draco’s position shifted slightly, Percy cried out at the sudden and blinding pleasure. He knew he would come in a few more thrusts.   
  
“Draco…I’m…oh it feels so good…I can’t….” Percy murmured, barely intelligible between his moans.   
  
“Look at me, Weasley,” Draco whispered, his own groans getting louder. Percy opened his heavily lidded eyes, meeting Draco’s intense stare. Draco threw his head back, biting his lip, “You’re so tight…mmmm can’t hold on.”   
  
The look in Draco’s dark gray eyes sent Percy over the edge. His torso was long enough that his head sunk into the crook of Draco’s neck as his body clenched. The pleasure waved over him and he whispered Draco’s name over and over again like a prayer. He had never felt anything like this, and he wanted it to hold on forever. He let out one last keening moan as Draco’s cock twitched inside of him, his own voice moaning underneath him.   
  
Draco kept his arms around Percy, keeping him firmly against his body as their breathing and heartbeats slowed. When they finally calmed, Percy rolled off, cast a cleansing charm and let his head fall back against the pillows. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, one he may have been holding since that awful day in May. Something in his body just suddenly let go, and his entire being felt lighter.   
  
“Not bad, huh?” Draco grinned, his smirk self-congratulating but sexy at the same time.   
  
“I’m almost not sure if I should say how amazing it was, considering you’re already completely convinced of your own greatness,” Percy quipped. The lighthearted jab seemed like it should be out of place, but Percy’s whole outlook felt different, and he felt like he could finally be himself again.   
  
Draco snorted, turned up his nose, and rolled over, falling asleep immediately. Percy did the same, and as he was drifting off, he felt Draco’s hand ghost around his waist. He sighed and floated into guilt free, pain free sleep not aided by the vices of the past few months.   
  
The next morning, Percy woke with a sense of purpose and dressed quickly. Draco was still sleeping soundly, all of the covers wrapped around his naked form. Percy didn’t want to wake him, so he decided to just go before all the doubt and fear came back to him. He was unsure what he should be writing in a note, so he just slipped out the front door, sure he would find Draco as soon as he finished what his mind had started upon waking up.   
  
Making sure he was put together and presentable enough to be seen, Percy took a deep breath and apparated directly to The Burrow. He shook with fear, but was calmed by the notion that only his mother should be home. Bill, Charlie, George and Ron didn’t live there. His father was at work, as he usually was on Sundays (Percy had his schedule memorized, even if he did avoid eye contact with Arthur). And Percy hoped that Ginny was out somewhere, though he thought maybe he could handle the fiery sister with his mother’s eyes. He just needed to talk to his mother, to do something before he lost all nerve and assurance.   
  
He walked slowly across the front field, deliberately avoiding the tombstone at the edge of the forest, and made his way to the front door. He stood there, frozen, trying to remember why he came. He needed to finally clear the air, to face it once and for all. He needed to apologize to his mother…his whole family for killing Fred. He needed to at least beg their forgiveness before he could even think of being happy again. He didn’t expect any of them to welcome him back, probably not ever, but at least they would know what he meant, what his heart was on the matter.   
  
He knocked quietly, hoping to not call too much attention to himself. He should have known his mother would be in the kitchen, and the door flew open after the first knock. When her gentle eyes met his, she gasped, and Percy froze, unsure of what to say or do now that he was faced with his task. His mouth flapped awkwardly, his words choking in his throat as his mother began to tear up.   
  
“I knew you’d come back to me eventually,” She cried, pulling Percy into a fierce hug. His chin rested on the top of his head as her soft body continued to envelope him in warmth and comfort. He sighed, forgetting it all momentarily in favor of just remembering how safe and comfortable his mother always made him feel. Eventually, she pulled back, regarding him for a moment before inviting him inside.   
  
“Mother, I came to apologize,” Percy started, his voice cracking as he regarded his mother’s welcoming gaze.   
  
“It has been a while, but that’s okay Percy. We all needed to recover in our own ways. I’m just so happy to see that you can still come home,” She smiled, placing a hand on the side of his face.   
  
“No, mother. I deserve to be kept away from you,” Percy snapped, turning his head away from her. She stepped back, shocked by his outburst.   
  
“Nothing you could have done would ever warrant staying away from home, from your family,” Molly whispered, sitting down at the scrubbed wood table.   
  
“Don’t you know, mother!” Percy exclaimed, fresh tears forming in his eyes. “I abandoned you all, I took the wrong side and then took my time coming back because I was afraid.”   
  
“I don’t care about that. You came back, you fought with us and grieved with us,” Molly said, putting her hand on his arm. He pulled it away.   
  
“But it’s my fault he’s dead! It should have been me!” Percy cried, standing up and pacing, trying to get all of the information out before he fell into a heap of despair on the kitchen floor. “I…I told a joke…he smiled…and then he…he just…” Percy couldn’t hold back any longer, and he slid limply onto the floor.   
  
There was a deafening silence, punctuated only by his own choked sobs. Percy knew his mother would make him leave soon, but he just couldn’t stand being pushed away. Not yet. So Percy sat there, trying to pull himself together enough for the journey back to his lonely flat.   
  
Suddenly, he felt a rush of air, and saw that his mother had sat down beside him on the floor. He turned his head to meet her, her eyes watering but a soft smile on her face. She reached out a tentative hand and wiped his tears away. She handed him an embroidered handkerchief and he pressed it to her face, trying not to breathe in the sent of sugar and flowers that was so uniquely her.   
  
She reached out and placed a hand on either side of his face. "Percy, you are my son. You will always be important to me, just as important as all of the others. Your life does not mean less than someone else's. We all hurt from the loss, but that loss wasn't your fault. Surely, you of all people should know that."  
  
"He was so full of life and fire...he shouldn't have fallen like that. That could have been me, and I was the one who turned his back on this family, so it should have been me," Percy said, weakening under her gaze and leaning his head on her shoulder.   
  
"I know your mind and your heart better than anyone. I know where you want to be, and where you think you should be are often two very different things. But Percy, you have to understand, you belong here. You should never feel like you need to pull away from your family, no matter how big or small the problem," She whispered, delicately wiping her eyes with her thumbs.  
  
The rest of the morning was spent catching up over tea and his mother's delicious cinnamon raisin muffins. He was introduced to little Teddy Lupin, still too young to even talk, but his mother fawned over him like he was her first grandchild. He tried to come out to his mother, but she just smiled and asked him if he'd met any nice men before he could even get the words out. Percy must have known his mother would know his sexual preferences. She wasn't kidding when she said she knew his heart and mind better than anyone else.   
  
After a while, there was a soft knock on the door. "Oh that will be Andromeda to pick up Teddy," Molly said, bustling over to the door.   
  
"Hello love! Teddy is napping, he should be easy to travel with...Oh, you've brought guests," Molly greeted Andromeda as two other people walked in behind her.   
  
"I believe you know my sister Narcissa and her son, Draco," Andromeda said, in her small whisper of a voice.   
  
Percy, who had gone to the sink to put away his teacup, dropped the delicate china on the floor at hearing Draco's name.   
  
((((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))))((((((((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))))))))))))   
  
_I want to hear,_  
  
What you have to say about me.  
  
Hear, that you’re gonna live without me.  
  
I want to hear,   
  
What you want  
  
Who you want.  
  
Draco walked into the tattered little hovel known as The Burrow expecting dust, old furniture, and clutter. What he wasn't expecting was to hear a shattering of dishes and to see Percy's bewildered brown eyes meeting his. Draco politely shook Mrs. Weasley's hand, hoping that the dirt and grime wouldn't spread to his clean skin. Then, as the other women began to fawn over the little half-breed baby, Draco stood in awkward silence next to Percy. After the third or fourth 'coo' came from his mother, Draco knew he had to act.  
  
"Well, Percy, let's leave them to the infant shall we? Why don't you show me the gardens?" Draco said very casually. Percy stumbled over his words, his face turning bright red before eventually nodding and leading him out the back door.   
  
"Ummmm, yes, well....We have the Winter Garden that mother keeps for vegetables, but obviously that isn't in bloom anymore. The flower garden and herb gardens haven't been planted yet. I supposed we could tour the orchard, the leaves are starting to bud," Percy said, incessantly clearing his throat like he had swallowed something unpleasant.  
  
"As charming as that sounds...." Draco started.   
  
"I'm sorry I took off this morning. I was going to write a note, but they seem so unnecessary and useless sometimes. I would have owled you," Percy said, looking slightly down and meeting Draco's eyes in earnest.   
  
"No apologies necessary. Obviously I had plans today anyway...and you seemed to need to do something in quite a lot of haste," Draco said, raising an eyebrow at Percy, trying to sound like he didn't mind waking up alone after the night they shared.   
  
"I would like to...well that is to say..." Percy started, and Draco kept his composure in the face of Percy's nerves.   
  
Suddenly, Percy grabbed the back of Draco's neck and pulled him into a hard kiss. His free hand quickly roamed up and down Draco's back, his tongue seeking access into his mouth. Draco moaned in spite of himself, melting into Percy's kiss and reaching up to thread his fingers in Percy's wavy hair. He got lost in the kiss, losing track of all time, until Percy pulled back. His cheeks were red, his lips swollen, his glasses askew, and his hair windblown. Draco had to admit, he looked glorious.  
  
"I want to see you again...often..." Percy whispered, kissing up Draco's neck.   
  
"An agreeable arrangement," Draco answered.   
  
Percy groaned and apparated them to a room inside of the house. It was obviously Percy's bedroom when Draco took in the writing desk, suspenders hanging on the wall, a potions store, and a vast library. He imagined the young Percy, his well kept room amid the chaos of the house, studying away while the rest of his family ran around like loud and raucous hellions. The neat corners of Percy's bed looked more inviting than they ought to have.   
  
Percy came up behind Draco and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his already rock hard erection against the curve’s of Draco’s arse. Draco wanted him so badly, wanted to feel every inch of him over and over again. With each second, the lights in Percy’s eyes got brighter, and the fire that burned for him inside of Draco’s chest grew stronger. As Percy’s tongue ran alone the exposed planes of Draco’s neck, he whimpered with need.   
  
“You want it bad, don’t you,” Percy whispered, and Draco could hear a smile in his voice. This was going to be their game: who could one up the other, take over the other one’s senses. Draco knew he won the first round, and now he was being challenged.   
  
“We don’t much time, though, our mothers may wonder where we are at,” Draco said coolly, even as he gyrated against Percy. He smirked cleverly as he cast a silencing charm.   
  
“I don’t need that much time to fuck you senseless,” Percy groaned, his voice getting so impossibly deep that Draco almost thought him to be a stranger in that moment. Something caught Draco’s curiosity, and he had to stop the game for a second to face his lover.   
  
“Have you ever…been the one to…that is to say…” Draco was trying to find a tactful way to ask Percy if he had ever ‘pitched’.   
  
“No, but I’m a notoriously quick study, and I could study you in my mind all day,” Percy whispered, undoing the buttons of Draco’s shirt and sliding it slowly off of his shoulders. Draco quickly complied, removing Percy’s robes to reveal a simple navy button down shirt and another pair of dark and silver suspenders. Those things would be invading his dreams for weeks to come, even as he slid them off of Percy and pulled his shirt over his head. Draco couldn’t resist kissing down Percy’s chest and feeling his slim waist against his own large hands. Percy’s hands found Draco’s hair as his lips made their way over his pink nipples and freckled chest. Draco deftly unzipped Percy’s trousers and reached in to grip his long cock tightly.   
  
“Oh fuck, Draco, I never want to leave your bed again,” Percy groaned, thrusting into Draco’s hands.   
  
“Really? Because right now, I just want to be spread out on your bed,” Draco said, licking his lips when Percy opened his eyes. Percy undid Draco’s jeans and slid them down his legs, bringing his pants with them. He grasped Draco’s shoulders and spun him around, gently guiding him forward to the bed. Draco got up on all fours, spreading his legs wide as his feet dangled over the edge of the bed.   
  
“Oh wow you’re beautiful,” Percy said, touching Draco’s arse slowly and reverently. He cast a lubricating spell, and Draco could feel the cold liquid spread around his entrance. Percy’s long fingers entered him, first one, then another. They stretched Draco open, getting him ready for the next intrusion while Draco writhed and moaned in anticipation. “Can’t wait to be inside of you,” Percy groaned, beginning to push his cock into Draco’s slick entrance. He was so tall that he could stand behind Draco as he lay on the bed. The thought just made Draco want it more.   
  
As Percy slowly entered all the way into Draco, his heart began to race. Percy seemed to fit inside of him perfectly, and every inch was exquisite against Draco’s stretching flesh. When his body was ready, Draco pressed back against Percy, causing him to grip his hips tightly. Percy groaned Draco’s name and began to thrust into him harder, and with measured movements.   
  
“You love the feeling of my cock inside of you, don’t you? You love getting fucked until you can’t move…” Percy grunted, beginning to thrust harder. Draco had never been talked to like this during sex, but he found that it brought his orgasm that much more quickly.   
  
“Yes, Percy, harder please!” Draco shouted, bucking back against his lover. Percy complied and began to pound into him, his large, thin hands holding Draco’s hips so tightly he was nearly lifted off of the bed. Draco’s body began to go limp as Percy slammed into him, whispering and moaning endearments that Draco couldn’t quite make out, but that moved him in tone alone.   
  
Percy reached around and grasped Draco’s erection just as his cock was beginning to twitch inside. It only took a few thrusts before Draco spilled all over the neat bed and he felt Percy’s warmth empty into him and fill him up. After a courteous cleansing spell, they both fell onto the tiny twin bed, breathless and glistening.   
  
Draco leaned over and kissed up Percy’s torso, meeting his lips in a soft and gentle way. Percy cradled Draco’s head, kissing every inch of his face and nuzzling his nose into Draco’s neck.   
  
“Can I see you tomorrow?” Percy said quietly in Draco’s ear.   
  
“I’m off of work at 9,” Draco said, moving a curl off of Percy’s forehead. “Owl me your address.”   
  
“I’ll owl you a bloody key and the spell to break down the wards,” Percy groaned. Draco smiled; he liked the idea of seeing Percy whenever he needed to.   
  
And he knew he would need to a lot.


End file.
